


Far From Home

by AndiiErestor



Series: Sunshine and Sea [1]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: AU Fic, Gen, M/M, erestor is a little shit tho, glorfindel is a good soft boy, idek, takes place in middle earth but some weird alternate future, the elves dont sail?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-14 04:17:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18045323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndiiErestor/pseuds/AndiiErestor
Summary: "He knew the consequences of his actions – the very real possibility of being exiled for this..."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> B2MEM 2019 - B11 prompts:
> 
> \- Simile
> 
> B2MEM 2019 - G54 prompts:
> 
> \- Ostracization and Exile  
> \- Fisherman
> 
> B2MEM 2019 - O72 prompts:
> 
> \- Cape
> 
> \---------------
> 
> Disclaimer: This is in no way meant to be canon accurate, only vaguely realistic.

Glorfindel isn’t a fisherman by trade, rather, he was a soldier. After the last war however, he came home changed. His passion for life had left him, as had the last of his crew. He had some distant cousins and some old friends, yes, but no one waiting at home – no one to hold at night – and this weighed on his mind after all the loss he’d witnessed.

Returning home to the mundane after years of violence was impossible. He needed more stimulation than he’d found in his city apartment. After a few lazy – _hazy_ – months, his therapist suggested he got moving and he’d never looked back.

He got off his ass and started de-cluttering. Sold many of his belongings, leaving the rest in agreement with his landlord who could sell them or use them to rent at a higher price. Packing his clothes and precious items in his saddlebags, he made sure everything was in order with the landlord before heading west – to the sea.

The cape town was a new beginning and the ocean breeze seemed to brush a weight off his shoulders as he crested the final hills before reaching the coast. He’d worried about leaving Rivendell behind, but the sight of the town before him brought renewed hope that he would be settled and comfortable soon.

In no time at all, Glorfindel settled for a run-down, one bedroom home by the sea – a shack really – but it suited his needs and he would be able to put the necessary work into it which would keep him busy on his down time. He may even find help through the program if advisor he spoke with was to be believed.

It wasn’t regular work, but the veteran program allowed for many young lads to learn a trade, and to find work in their chosen career paths, as well as ample time for leisure and rehabilitation. As such, Glorfindel was able to return to his age old love of gardening and landscaping, while also having the time to pick up a hobby or two.

Thus, how he found himself out at sea on this particular cloudy afternoon, fishing rod in hand, apple in the other, waiting for something to bite.


	2. Chapter 2

He knew the consequences of his actions – the very _real_ possibility of being exiled for this – but kept swimming. He was angry. He hardly even remembered why, but he needed space, and what good was the ocean if he couldn’t simply take the space he needed, when he needed it. These days it was almost as though he did nothing _but_ argue with his family, and as dangerous as he was told the open ocean was, nothing could keep him still after another fight.

It didn’t help either that the surface was so fascinating.

The deep crevice his family had inhabited for centuries was comfortable and clean, and more importantly, it was free from most predators. Their supply of food was healthy, and changed from season to season, as it ought to, and despite their proximity to the civilization of the two-fins, they were never wanting for a meal. There were places – he’d heard – towards the south, where the water was so dirty one could barely see through the grime and refuse the two-fins threw into the sea.

Near the surface, however, things were different. With the water not so deep, the reefs were densely populated by fish of all kinds, and all different colours.

 _Oh, the colours_ –

He loved the colours most of all.

In the depths, colours were muted. Oh, they had ways of seeing and getting around in the dark, but colours like these were fascinating. The fish were pink and blue and orange, they reflected the colours of the light and the reef around them.

That was not to mention his _own_ colours.

They weren’t visible in the crevice, but here? Bright purples and blues they were, over the deepest of blacks.

It was as he was as he was swimming along on his back admiring the colours in his own tail that he noticed the dark shape above.

He knew that shape.

Everyone in his colony knew that shape.

He approached it anyway.


	3. Chapter 3

Glorfindel took his shirt off and wiped his neck with it before tossing it to the bottom of the boat. It would probably be soaked by the time he was headed home, but the cool cloth would feel like heaven on his back. It wasn’t sunny, no, but it was _hot_ and more humid than it had ever been in Rivendell. He assumed this meant it would rain, but the day had been clear so far.

His golden hair was loose and beginning to curl lightly, puffing up into what resembled a golden ball of yarn, but he was happy to leave it be. It had been some time since he’d been given the opportunity to grow it out like this – having always kept it at shoulder-length during the war.

Of course, all that now being said, it began to rain.

The blonde just shook his head and laughed. _Of course it would._ Yet the light drops of rain helped cool him down, and as he had learned early on, fish were more likely to come out and play when it was raining, so he remained.

He didn’t _need_ to fish of course, but he preferred it. He would still make time to stop by the market on his way back for some fresh vegetables. The garden was well underway, but the plants were growing yet, and nowhere near ready to harvest.

For now, he settled back again, letting the mist of rain and the sound of raindrops on the water lull him into a peaceful quiet…

Until his reverie was interrupted by the sound of splashing behind him.


	4. Chapter 4

He swam closer, slowly as he could, raising his voice in song as he went. He had been told that the two-fins didn’t hear and speak as his own people did, and was hardly worried the figure in the large basket would hear him – or understand what the sound was.

As he approached, the colours of the basket came to light. Its main colour was a deep, dark red – one that was hardly found in the waters – and so he assumed it hailed from past the sands where the two-fins lived.

The hook surprised him. It was just floating there in the water where anything could get caught on it, so he gave it a little tug and though it took a little bit of work, he managed to get the hook off the long wire and brought it along with him to the surface.

When he was finally within a tail’s length away from the basket, he noticed the two-fin’s long hair hanging over the edge and – assuming the two-fins had no eyes behind their heads, though for all he knew, they _might_ – he quietly peeked above the water.

Staying quiet for a moment, he watched as the two-fin sat quietly in the basket, a stick in his hand with a long piece of wire at the end… The same wire he’d found the hook attached to.

With a frown, and nary a thought, he brought his arm up and threw the hook into the two-fin’s basket and quickly swam away, his tail flopping above the water for only a second before he disappeared.


	5. Chapter 5

Glorfindel sat up ramrod straight as something clipped him on the shoulder and landed on his chest, tangled up in his hair. His hand flew up to catch it and he hissed as it poked into his chest.

His fishing hook!

_What?_

The cold sting of fear shot up his back. That couldn’t be right! The hook was properly tied to the end of the fishing wire. He hadn’t brought extras as he hadn’t planned on being out here all day. He _knew_ the hook should be several meters away and underwater, but here it was jabbing him in the tit.

_This was wrong!_

He turned to see where the splash had come from, nearly tipping the boat in his haste, but found nothing – at least, nothing left. For a moment there, he did think he’d seen a large fin, but it couldn’t be. Something with fins that large would have made more noise than that at the surface…

Glorfindel worried now that something was taking advantage of the fact that he was alone at sea – most of the ships either out for the day or returning to the docks as the rainfall continued. His instincts kicking into gear, Glorfindel reeled in the line and stuffed his fishing rod at the bottom of the boat. The shirt and hook went into the lunch bag he’d brought out with himself.

He was just picking up the oar when he heard it.

A deep, impossibly low humming song – almost like that of a whale.

_A whale?_

_Impossible. The water here is too shallow for that. It’d end up stuck._

He turned once again to face the water, trying to see if he could find the source of the sound – _not proper military etiquette_ , his mind supplied – but found nothing…

Until he righted himself and found a stranger next to his boat, holding the oar above his head as a weapon – the business end pointed in Glorfindel’s direction.

The stranger stared for many minutes, Glorfindel frozen in place and doing the same. Something about this intruder gave him the sense that he was the one in the wrong. This kept him wondering, as opposed to trying to wrestle the oar away to make his way home.

“Who are you?” Glorfindel asked, but the stranger remained silent.

“What do you want?” Again, the stranger remained silent.

“Will you please give me back my oar?”

The stranger frowned, almost as though he didn’t understand what Glorfindel was saying.

He pointed to the oar, “Will you give it back please?”

Black pearls squinted at him, glancing back and forth between the oar and his outstretched hand. The oar was then tossed unceremoniously into the bottom of the boat, and the stranger swam away to the very end of the boat.

He raised himself up – one hand on each side of the bow – and tiled his head back just enough to allow the water to pull his silky hair back. His moon-bright skin seemed almost to glow despite the heavy cloud cover, and he appeared to have several scratches along his throat.

 _Perhaps he_ cannot _speak?_

For several seconds more, they stared, until the stranger began coughing – more and more, as though emptying his lungs of water.

Glorfindel, worried for his safety, climbed to the front of the boat to help him, but the stranger held out his – _filthy_ – hand. Glorfindel felt bad for the descriptor, but it truly seemed as though this person had been our here swimming for days. The lines between his fingers were a dark muddied colour as though moss or some sort of algae had begun to form between them.

He made a face, but stayed still.

“Mmm,” the stranger moaned, likely from the irritation of his throat and took his hand back. “Mmm… My name…”

Glorfindel’s eyes widened at how utterly _deep_ this person’s voice was. He simply did not look capable of producing such a sound.

“My name ‘s Erestor,” the stranger said and once again stared at Glorfindel.

“Ah… I am Glorfindel,” the blonde spoke, bewildered.

They stayed that way for a few minutes, both torn between admiration and fear, both wondering where the other came from and what danger the other could pose. Glorfindel taking in Erestor’s unbelievably pale skin and dark hair. And Erestor admiring the dark, sandy colour of Glorfindel’s skin, and the sunshine colour of his hair, slowly moving closer, holding onto the boat with both hands as he did.

When he was finally next to the two-fin named Glorfindel, Erestor reached out to touch his hair, taking a few strands of it between his fingers.

All the while, Glorfindel watched him, wondering what in the world this strange man – _boy? His age was difficult to_ tell – was planning. When Erestor reached out to touch his hair, he grimaced at the thought of those moss-covered fingers but stayed still once again – stamping down the thought of shoving him away and rushing back home. When he felt the _cold_ skin against his own warmed one, he shivered and jerked away, causing Erestor to do the same – pulling away from the boat entirely.

Again, a slim arm reached above the water, this time with one finger pointed directly at Glorfindel like a scolding mother, “No more hook,” he said and Glorfindel nodded, and then took a breath before diving below the water and swimming back from where he came, faster than Glorfindel had ever seen.

Not waiting for an invitation, Glorfindel took up the returned oar – thankfully still intact – and began rowing back to shore, never looking back. It wasn’t until the boat was tied and he’d almost reached the door to the mudroom that he turned back and realized…

The stranger – _Erestor_ – had turned away towards the open sea, and was now nowhere to be found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If the quality of this chapter seems lesser than the others, it is.
> 
> I must admit, I hyped myself up a bit too much about this one and then mostly lost track of it as I went.
> 
> There _will_ be other, _shorter_ pieces in the future however.


End file.
